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| Susan Fedorko (second from right) at Grand Portage Rendezvous Pow Wow in June 2006. (Photo courtesy Lisa Dahmen) |
Susan Fedorko was 40 years old when she found her birth family—or rather, when a long-lost sister found her. Her first book, Cricket: Secret Child of a Sixties Supermodel
(Outskirts Press, 2012) chronicles Fedorko’s journey from Native
American adoptee-turned “white” mother and wife, to a person reunited
with her extended family. That family hails from the Grand Portage
Indian Reservation people on her mother’s side and the White Earth
Nation on her father’s, both Chippewa/Ojibwe. In an unexpected twist,
Fedorko discovered that just a few years after her birth, her birth
mother—Cathee Dahmen—had become an immensely popular supermodel,
probably the first Native American woman to attain that status. (photo left)
Fedorko’s story is a bittersweet mix of hard-won healing and
humor. She recalls gazing at her then 11-month-old daughter, Samantha:
“I broke down, thinking how terrible it must have been for my birth
mother to part with me. It would rip me apart to be separated from
Samantha.” Just pages later, she captures the voice of one of her
husband’s good-old-boy friends, “whose accent made him sound like his
name could have been Cletus.” Her experiences have been diverse, her
responses unfailingly human, and her writing utterly frank.
Thousands of Native children—up to 35 percent of Indian youth in
some states—were taken from their homes and adopted into white families
before the 1978 Indian Child Welfare Act. Fedorko is one of them. Her story will resonate both with those who have reconnected and those still dreaming about that day.
How did you react when you first realized who your birth mother was, and how do you look at it now?
Cathee Dahmen became a famous supermodel in the 1960s.
As
an adoptee, you fantasize about who your birth parents could be. What
did they look like? What were they like? What types of jobs did they
have? You imagine that you may get photos of them someday, normal
photos. Perhaps they would be blowing out birthday candles, sitting on
the couch with a sibling, standing near a Christmas tree. Some of the
very first images I saw of my birth mom were on the cover of Vogue and Harper’s Bazaar.
I was flooded with new images of Cathee for the first few months; she
was photographed by some of the very best fashion photographers in the
world. The very first images that I saw, I studied them intensely. I
could see myself in those photos.… I could also see her in both my
daughters.
Then as a few weeks passed, I began to run things through my mind.
The “whys” would always surface. Without her or the principals involved
in my adoption being around or alive, it was hard to capture an accurate
account of why or why not. I have to hope that things happened the way
they did for a reason, and accept that. It has now been more than 10
years since I have been found. I have been able to digest a lot since
November 2002. I am very proud of who my birth mother is.
In your book, you describe near misses. Can you summarize some of those?
I have been so close to running into the Dahmen family many times. In
September of 2001 my husband Tim and I went with friends on a
motorcycle ride. We made it to Grand Marais, Minnesota and spent the
weekend there. Little did I know that Cathee’s grave lay a few miles
beyond the B&B where we were staying. I decided to stay back at the
B&B instead of riding an additional 30 miles to Grand Portage
Casino. A great number of my relatives live on the reservation in Grand
Portage. Knowing now that several Dahmen cousins work at the casino, I
could have run into cousins, aunts and uncles on that trip. Both my
grandmothers—my adoptive Grandma Rose and biological Grandma Mary
attended the same church in South Minneapolis. My husband Tim’s
childhood friend, Jon Kusler, worked at Alliant Techsystems, in New
Brighton, Minnesota. Jon would stop by our house after work. I
discovered that Jon’s shift supervisor was my aunt Darlene
Dahmen-Oakgrove, Cathee’s sister.
In reconnecting with your birth family, have you gotten any answers?
I
don’t think that I will ever have all the answers about my adoption.
Cathee passed away before I could get the chance to ask her any
questions. I will never know completely the reason why I was the only
one in the family who was adopted out. I was told that my biological
grandmother packed me up one day while Cathee was at school and adopted
me out without her knowing about it. She came home to find me gone. I
had heard it was decided that Cathee move out to the East Coast to live
with her Uncle George [Morrison]. She would finish out her senior year
there, and get away from the hurt and pain of my loss. I will never
know.… 1962 was the year that hurt the most in her life. I will never
know if she thought of me often or thought of me at all. I will never
know if having children after me made her feel better or not. Or in her
last few hours, what kind of thoughts ran through her mind about me. I
always wanted to know if she ever looked for me. I have had to accept
not knowing and move on. I have had to stop asking myself “why,” or it
would eat me alive.
How have you reconnected with the Native spiritual and cultural parts of yourself?
As an adult I do not understand the customs and ceremonies; however, I
am learning. In my book, I recall the first time I visited Cathee’s
grave. I was with my Auntie Barb, and I spent a couple moments in
silence talking to Cathee. I had not noticed that Barb had been fumbling
in her purse for her cigarettes. I noticed that she had taken out a
smoke—I began thinking to myself, “She is not going to light up right
here, is she?” Barb then snapped her cigarette in half and put the
tobacco into her hand, and she asked me for my hand and sprinkled the
remaining tobacco into it. I thought to myself: Cathee died of
emphysema, which was tobacco related! Does Barb think she is missing it
so much she feels compelled to put some on her grave? I had no idea what
offering tobacco meant, because no one ever explained it to me. I do
understand it now.
Your book describes your early efforts to be recognized by
either your father’s or your mother’s tribe. Have those efforts been
fruitful?
I tried getting enrolled from the age of 18; I made over 25
documented pleas to the adoption agency to help me find my tribe and
family roots. I had given up many times and gained strength and tried
all over again. Finally, in 2002, my half-sister Sarah decided to find
her long-lost sister Cricket. When it came time to try to get enrolled
with either my birth father’s tribe [White Earth Nation] or my birth
mother’s tribe [Grand Portage] I had discovered that somehow I had been
enrolled in 1992 with Grand Portage. I was so happy that I had been
recognized and had been enrolled 11 years already. I was also told that I
had per-capita payments accumulated under that enrollment number.
But then, the Grand Portage Tribal Council ruled that my enrollment
had been an error, so they gave me a new enrollment number from that
point on. I do not understand to this day why they thought my blood
quantum had changed from 1992 to 2002. It was very disappointing, but I
am grateful and happy that I am enrolled.
Why do you consider yourself one of the lucky adoptees?
My adoptive parents were in their mid-40s when they adopted me. They
are now in their mid-90s. Both are wonderful parents. I could not have
asked for a better match. They made sure that I was loved, healthy,
educated and that I had my faith. I grew up with one older sister and
one older brother. I have nothing but good memories of my adoptive
family. In my heart they will always be my parents and siblings. I do
count myself lucky because my placement worked out. I was not neglected
or abused. I have heard many stories from other adoptees that were not
so fortunate. My heart breaks for them; they endured horrible
conditions.
As an adoptee, you struggled with low self-esteem. What advice would you give to other adoptees?
I would emphasize that your adoption was not your fault. Be strong
and be the best that you can be. That is hard to swallow at times. I
will be the first to admit that I have often felt like I did not belong,
or that I was not wanted. I spent a great deal of my life being shy and
unsure of my place. I have my faith and always tell myself, “I am
worthy.” I do think that I have gained more self-assurance now that I
know my roots. I don’t think Cathee tolerated any crap from anyone. I
suddenly have her strength. I keep her photos close so I am reminded
that I can still dream big, just as she did. Her beauty was captured
during a difficult time in her life. I am a part of a large network of
Native American adoptees founded by Sandy White Hawk. Sandy’s group, [
WeAreComingHome.com],
is such a spiritual gift to be a part of. I have been with the group
since 2003. It started with just a handful of Native adoptees and has
since grown to more than 200.
Susan Fedorko had always
known she was put up for adoption before she was even a year old. And she had
always known she was Native American. But when she turned eighteen, she felt the
need to know more about herself. She received some information about her birth
parents through the adoption agency, but there was so little to go on. She gave
up her search many times. For the next twenty years Susie was busy with marriage
and motherhood. Finally, in 2002 and at the age of forty, she received the phone
call that would change her life. Someone was looking to find her. And what she
discovered was astonishing. Susan’s birth mother was the first Native American
supermodel, Cathee Dahmen—an international fashion model with two celebrity
marriages under her belt—and her great uncle was the famed Native American
artist, George Morrison. Cricket is the incredible story of one woman’s journey
to discover her roots and define her place in a newly complex and extended
family—with her adoptive family, her birth family, and her husband and
daughters. It’s the story of who she was “before,” who she became “after,” and
how it all happened.
A lifelong resident of Minneapolis, Minnesota, Susan “Cricket”
Fedorko (Grand Portage Band of Chippewa - Oijbwe) has contributed her writing to
two anthologies on the subject of being adopted and has done numerous media
interviews. This new memoir details her astonishing 22-year search for answers
and describes touching reunions with both of her birth-families in two Minnesota
tribal nations. Her Chippewa – Oijbwe, birthmother, a famous supermodel, died in
1997, a short distance from Susan’s current home.
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